Here I Lie On My Own in a Separate Sky
by ayallaly
Summary: Rose Tyler isn't a princess from a fairy tale and she refuses to just take her happily ever after at face value. The ups and downs of Rose and TenToo's first days together. Can she love this new Doctor? Can he live a linear life without the TARDIS? Characters: Rose Tyler, Ten, TenToo. Guest appearances by: Tony, Jackie, Eleven. Sequel to A Smile That Explodes.
1. The One Adventure I Can Never Have

[[I should have been doing homework all day today but instead I couldn't get this story out of my head so I put it all on paper. I've always wanted to explore how Rose the TenTwo came to terms with one another in the beginning, before they fall back in love and happily ever after so that's what these next chapters will be. Playlist is: Behind The Sun by Matt Costa, Be Here Now by Ray Lamontagne, You and I by The Violet Archers, We Never Change by Coldplay, and Live Forever by Oasis]]

_Now here I come to dance around the sun_  
_I've been oh so blue stuck behind the moon_  
_Now let me in back where we begin_  
_And let me hold you like the way I used to do_

They called in a jet to take them back to England. Pete had offered to send a zeppelin but Rose refused due to her experience in WWII London. He wanted to think the Doctor had taken Pete's immense fortune into account when he left them stranded on that beach so far away from London, but knew better. His Time Lord counterpart had more pressing things to think about…like Donna. Oh, poor Donna Noble. He knew what would happen to her and what his other self would have to do in order to save her. There was something more than sadness and empathy that he felt…he had Donna to thank for his humanness; the inadvertent gift she had given him—the opportunity to live out his shortened life with Rose. He was connected to her by more than just the earnest friendship they had shared, but pieces of her had transferred over into him. Most of them good, i.e. the one heart and keen understanding of people. However, there were a few unfortunate qualities he discovered he had inherited as well, such as her headstrong abrasiveness. He made a mental note to keep that part under control until Rose had accepted him fully lest she accuse him of being a different man.

But he was a different man. He quickly touched his fingers to his forehead, hoping it would pass as an unnoticeable gesture. His head felt so much lighter. It was bittersweet, really. It was a relief not to have the whole universe, all of time and space, going on in your mind all at once. All that Time Lord knowledge and consciousness was still there, after all he was only part human, but it came in bouts now. Like a file cabinet: filled to the brim, but organized in folders, easily attainable when he needed it and stored away when he didn't. He wondered how he never went mad before with it all shouting to him, an unending cacophony inside him. Of course, some did indeed consider him mad, perhaps he always had been. Perhaps they all were, all the Time Lords, and that's why the universe had feared them so.

"Please fasten your seatbelt, sir, as we prepare for take-off." A woman with soft eyes and a wrinkled smile motioned towards his seat. She wasn't unsightly but he placed her at about 55 years of age and she had a grandmotherly air about her. He imagined Jackie had picked her out because she was a comforting presence but too old to stir any sort of fancy in Pete. He smirked to himself at the revelation that Rose's mum, despite becoming a renewed mother and wife, still resembled that head case he met all those years ago. Well, that _he_ met. He wasn't sure whether he should keep correcting himself. They were his memories too, his thoughts, his feelings. So what if it wasn't his physical body present at the time, weren't humans the ones who believed in souls anyhow?

He buckled his belt around his waist and squirmed around in his seat a bit in excitement. This was a new adventure, being a passenger in a 21st century aircraft. He was a bit disappointed that his travels would be so lengthy and inefficient now without the TARDIS, but this was all part of being domestic and he would embrace it with open arms. One look to his left and he knew it was all worth it. The one adventure he thought he could never have. Rose, his pink and yellow human—he ought to stop calling her that considering that her humanness wasn't a novelty any longer but old habits die slow.

He was almost childlike in his energy. He didn't carry himself as heavily and she wasn't sure if she was grateful for it or bothered by it. "Have you ever been on an airplane before?" She inquired, wondering if his vivacity was due to exhilaration. "Weeeellll, depends on your definition of 'airplane'." He flashed her one of those toothy grins and she was once again overwhelmed by just how Doctor-y he truly was. The way he drew out his "well", the way he hinted at enigmas as if they were common knowledge, the glint of unconditional affection in his eyes when he looked at her. But she knew he wasn't quite the same. She couldn't help but smile back, it was involuntary, but behind it there was nothing but conflict as she struggled to understand this new Doctor.

* * *

The town car drops them off in front of a mansion straight out of a period piece. They'd been living here for years now, ever since she and her mum had crossed universes, but she'd spent most of her days jumping through time and after growing up at Powell Estate, the sight of the place and the reality that she lived here still left her in a bit of shock. "So, this is home, then. You can stay here with us, if you'd like. It's certainly big enough." She glanced over at the Doctor as they crossed the threshold and realized in a spell of embarrassment that he didn't have any belongings with which to stake a claim.

Jackie came bounding in behind them. "We're never calling that driver again. You think he'd have some sympathy, I only just crossed universes, didn't think to bring along my wallet. I said, doesn't he know who I am? So this is the house…Tony and Pete must be out, I told them not to wait up for us. Rose can show you around, thought she might get lost herself. Hardly ever here, that one." The Doctor gave Rose a knowing look, realizing she hadn't been around because she had been looking for him.

"Go ahead and pick any room, as long as it's not Rose's. Tony doesn't need to be hearing any of that sort of stuff yet."

The Doctor and Rose turned the same shade of coral. "Mum, we don't, uh…" She tried to turn the conversation around on her mother to bypass the awkwardness. "Besides, I think it's a bit too late for that" She and the Doctor enjoyed a laugh, just like old times, as Jackie told them to "Shut it" and carried on up the stairs.

Rose was thankful her mum had retired to her own room and that the rest of the Tyler clan had been out so they could avoid complicated introductions and polite conversation. All she really wanted was to lock herself away with the Doctor in a private wing of the house and discover him entirely. She'd started making a list in her head of sames and differences. _Same_: face, fingers, hair, grin, eye twinkle, sense of style, knowledge of the cosmos. _Different_: inhibitions, landlocked, gait, life span. As she led him around the colossal residence, she imagined he was making a list of his own of domestic humany things he looked forward to doing.

He looked in awe at the stainless steel pots and pan hanging above his head making kitchen constellations and imagined whipping up some blueberry pancakes and bacon and waking Rose with the smell to have her walk in groggy but smiling and place a kiss on his dimpled cheek. Cooking breakfast on the weekends – yes.

He glanced at the mantle in the dining room and saw a copious amount of pictures blatantly taken in a studio of the Tyler lot, Rose forcing a pleased look, Tony unable to keep his focus on the camera man, Pete ever the professional with an impassive look on his face, and Jackie with the cheesiest grin (and the most eye makeup, which he'd never thought possible) he'd ever seen upon her, a few even had Mickey standing awkwardly beside them. Posing for Tyler family portraits – pass.

Despite Rose's appeals that they were nothing special, the Doctor insisted on seeing all the bathrooms. They were glorious things with plumbing and bathtubs and decorative towels. The one in the TARDIS was something more like that you'd see in a train: simple and to the point. But these were so homey, he adored them. Nothing screamed "household" like little bows on your hand towels and clawed feet on your bathtub. In all his 900 years, he'd never taken a proper, relaxing soak in a tub before. Take a bubble bath – yes.

The television in the family room was superfluous to say the least. It took up an entire wall and was voice activated. He was sick to his stomach with both delight and dread as he spotted several pairs of plastic glasses with blue and red lenses on the coffee table. "Yeah, they make tellys in 3D now," Rose remarked as she followed his eye line. "Took me a while to actually try it out since every time I saw them I just thought of….well, you know." He did know and he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and assure her that he would never leave her again but despite the passionate kiss on the beach, he was unsure of where he stood with her now and didn't want to push her away with overzealousness. "Mum usually sits here with Tony and watches her programs all day long." His face contorted into an expression of displeasure as he imagined having to spend his days with Jackie until he found a proper job. Watching soap operas with Jackie Tyler because there were no other tellys in the house and she pressured him into spending time with her and Tony – pass.

They went into Tony's room and found his most pleasant surprise yet. The whole thing was painted in TARDIS blue. There was a mobile above the crib with stars and planets he recognized as those he had taken Rose to. She had taken all their adventures and turned them into bedtime stories for her little brother. "To say I missed you would be an understatement," she explained calmly.

"There wasn't really anyone else I could talk to about you. I felt guilty telling Mum and Dad how much I'd rather be off with you than here with them. Mickey was understanding, at first, but I think he thought that when you left, we would pick up where we left off and there was only so much he could listen to. Even at Torchwood, I sound like a loony because, no offense, but you don't carry the same weight here as you do in the other world." She made her way over to the mobile and ran her fingers through the miniature worlds. She remembered being furious with him. How could he have expected her to live on like that, without him? After he'd given her everything—the sight of the Earth burning before her very eyes, adventures of saving the world from werewolves and Slitheen, a love so deep that even planets made entirely of ocean couldn't compare… What had he expected her to do? "The more I talked about you, the more I realized they sounded like fairytales so that's exactly what they became," she smiled as she thought of the way Tony's eyes alit when she spoke of the Doctor and their escapades. "He loves you already. 'Doctor' was like his third or fourth word."

The way she tenderly touched the furniture and spoke about him like he was a ghost made his hearts, no just one now, go weak. He'd always known she was bound to be as miserable as he was at their separation and that just like he did, she would find a way to carry on with his life and at least be complacent with his existence, but seeing it all here written on her face and on the walls, was more than he could bear. He strode across the room to take her limp hand in his. He didn't say a thing—just stood there and held her hand like he was always meant to. He had a flash of another reality where this room belonged not to Tony but to a child of his own and he and Rose had come in to kiss it goodnight. The stories of their adventures weren't just fairytales, they were promises of the things they would show him someday. He wondered if Rose had ever dreamed of having children but had relinquished that future in order to travel with him. For the first time in hundreds of years, he considered the possibility of being a proper father. Have a family with Rose Tyler – yes.

Their last stop was her bedroom. She was hesitant as to whether or not she should show him. He'd been inside her room in the TARDIS plenty of times, but things were different now. In the end, she gave in, certain that if she didn't he would tease her about it…or at least the Doctor she knew would…this new man, she wasn't entirely sure. Her first impulse was to tidy up—there was clothing in piles on the floor, files full of loose paper stacked on her desk, an empty coffee cup on her night stand—but the urge left her as quickly as it came on. After her moment of vulnerability in Tony's room, she wanted him to see how she lived, that she had kept busy and lived on without him. Not that she really needed to prove herself after saving the whole bloody multiverse, but the feeling remained all the same. He had kept mostly quiet during the tour, though she had seen the inner dialogue within his head but upon seeing the picture frame next to her bed, he let out a hearty laugh. He walked over and picked it up to get a closer look. "Ahhh, I remember this." The picture was one they had taken of the pair of them on a scooter bike in the 1950s. As usual, they'd been trying to get someplace else and ended up in London to save the UK from aliens. They were so happy then, certain that nothing in the universe could stand in their way. The Doctor and Rose Tyler: the stuff of legend. "1953, coronation of our lady Elizabeth II, case of the muppet faces. Lucky I was there to invent the home video and put that lovely little grin back on your head." _Same_: memories, voice. He talked just like him, all those ups and downs in his voice, easily excitable, witty to the last.

She sat down on her bed, directly in front of him now. "You're really him, aren't you?"

"In the flesh," he replied before kissing her softly. She did not resist, but rather leant into it and soon he was on the bed beside her. Internally, he reached out to his Time Lord self through their remaining connection and thought one phrase ardently: "Thank you."


	2. We Got Chips

[[I think the connection between TenToo and Ten is utterly heartbreaking so I really tried to play that up here. Also, everyone tends to focus on Rose and TenToo living happily ever after, but I have to imagine that there was a lot of internal turmoil on her part before they got there and rightfully so, and I hope I portrayed that. Playlist is Wicked Game by James Vincent McMorrow (I think his version is much more intimate and the right feel for the scene where TenToo is tossing and turning in bed), Take These Thoughts by Chris and Thomas, Fever Dream by Iron and Wine, Sea of Love by Cat Power, and Video Games by Lana Del Rey]]

_Some days, like rain on the doorstep,  
She'll cover me with grace in all she offers  
Sometimes I'd like just to ask her  
What honest words she can't afford to say_

Rose Tyler stared into the infinite dimension that was her walk-in closet. She'd had hours of fun in the TARDIS going through period themed costumes but when it came to dressing herself for a night out in London, she was at a loss. Her fingers ran down the polychromatic rows like a child dragging a stick down a railing. A soft knock at her doorway took her attention away from the rolling waves of cotton and polyester. The first thing she noticed was the gleam in his eyes when he saw her. It was as though he'd been afraid yesterday was a dream and seeing her here in person had put him in a state of wonder. There was a beautifully glassy quality to his pupils like the pond in the backyard after an English rainstorm, settling back into its perfectly calm and reflective state and she was almost sad to look away from them. The second thing she noticed was his velour jacket. Her endearing smirk turned into a warm giggle.

"What are you wearing?"

He tugged at the corners of the blazer and ran his hands down the velvety material covering his chest. "I think it's brilliant!" he claimed as he spun around on his toes so as to give her the full effect.

"Is that Dad's?"

"Yes, well, lucky for me, your dad is a bit of a hoarder when it comes to his old threads. Unlucky for me, he jabbers on nearly as much as Jackie. How the two of them ever get through a conversation is beyond me. Poor Tony doesn't stand a chance." There he went again, talking a hundred miles a minute like he'd never been away. Like she'd never spent countless nights here, alone, without him, dreaming of the day she'd find her way back. But here he was now, standing in front of her wearing Pete's clothes from university because he was too thin to fit into anything he'd worn after 1978 and they hadn't gone to the shops yet to get him a proper wardrobe. It was almost too much, this familiar stranger standing in front of her, giving her that look, wearing that face…

"I see you've had a very productive morning," he addressed not to her but to the pile of garments that had acquired the majority of her closet floor.

"Maybe if you'd tell me where we were goin', I'd know what to wear," she retorted with a coy smile returning to her face. "I was hoping seeing your getup would give me a clue but unless we're going to a show for the Fleetwood Mac reunion tour, you've been no help at all." She'd woken up to a note—TARDIS blue stationary, she'd had no idea where he'd gotten it. "_2pm, be ready to go. I've found something to show you."_ Same: habitual cryptic-ness. Besides the parcel, she hadn't heard from him since they'd said goodnight the evening before until he'd shown up in her bedroom looking like he'd walked out of one of her mum's old yearbooks.

"Actually, in this universe, Fleetwood Mac broke up for good in 1987." At the sight of her perplexed eyebrows creeping up her forehead, he added, "I did a bit of research last night. All this knowledge in my head and half of it doesn't even apply to this world. I couldn't get to sleep, so I perused the Internet for a bit."

She couldn't remember deciding to get so close to him but suddenly she'd closed the gap between them and her hand had found his. "Can you still feel the Earth spinning?" Her tone had changed from playful to pensive as she remembered those first days they'd had together when she asked him who he was, unbeknownst to them both how redundant that question would one day be.

He was hesitant to answer, uncertain of what she was hoping he would say. Did she want him to say yes and reassure her that he was the same man who saved her from the living plastic all those years ago? Or was she yearning for a simple denial that would confirm their equality at last? "No," he replied finally, his voice breathy and baritone.

"Do you miss it?"

Leave it to Rose Tyler to ask the tough questions. In truth, he wasn't sure. It was a bit like regeneration—he was the same person but he felt all new. He wasn't used to it yet. He reached out his palm to cup her creamy white cheek. There was no answer to this question because it didn't matter. He had, in a way, sacrificed that part of himself to be here with her and he considered himself lucky because lord knows, he would have given up a lot more. His hand left her skin to grab a hanger just behind her head. It held a soft white blouse and he wrapped her fingers around it. "Here, wear this. It'll look lovely on you," and with that he left the room.

Rose looked down at the silky shirt he'd placed into her hands. Her mind was wrought with confusion. Where had the man who committed Dalek genocide gone? The man who was all fury and no remorse? When the Doctor—the _real_ Doctor—had introduced her to this clone, she'd set herself up to hate him. She'd seen what he'd done, and decided he was nothing like the man she loved. But where was all that now? How was she to justify resenting that man out there in the parallel stars when it felt like he was here?

* * *

He'd been lying in the bed for hours, shifting the satin sheets between his feet, slipping his long legs out, stuffing them back in, rolling onto one side, shoving his arm underneath one pillow, flipping on his back and stretching out spread-eagle. He knew he ought to be more tired, but perhaps it was just the remnants of his Time Lord mindset that had convinced his human body that more than three hours of sleep was excessive. That was the simple explanation. The complicated one was that he could still feel the other Doctor, his misery reaching out through the remaining cracks in the universe. He could feel _his_ tears running down his cheek. He could hear the creak of the mattress as _he_ sat down on the bed that had been Donna's, had been Martha's, had been Rose's. He could see the empty closet, the bare walls, the open drawers of the dresser in his mind. He could sense they were in sync as they ran their fingers through their hair then rested them on their face, letting their palms become a trough for the salty droplets falling from their eyes. Mostly he felt the resentment that ran both ways. He felt enmity towards _him_ for making him feel this abyss of sorrow when he ought to be resting peacefully, when he ought to be grateful and joyful for being where he was, but instead he felt guilt. On the other hand, he could feel the indignation _he_ carried for being able to sense the uncontrollable bliss he had being in her presence that only caused more heartbreak for _him_. He wondered if _he'd_ clutched _his_ dual hearts when he kissed her as he had clutched his single one when _he'd _said goodbye to Donna. They were unfair in their treatment of one another and he refused to sit and wallow vicariously any longer.

He swung his legs off the bed, sliding his feet into a pair of slippers Pete had gotten last year for Christmas but never took out of the box and took to exploring the house on quiet tippy-toes. He didn't have to look too far—he still remembered which room he'd found the computer in the last time he was here, when he'd hacked into it while pretending to be a cater-waiter. He'd been so happy to leave behind this world back then, so relieved to get away. Funny he should end up here and be thankful for it. The light from the monitor glared in the dark room as the computer hummed to life. He'd started with what was left of the Cyber-Network's website. Despite the downfall of the company, their databases still held most of modern history. That's where he'd seen it. A small corner advertisement for the Royal Opera House, almost insignificant.

It was almost as though this universe was accepting him into its arms. So many things were different here, so many things contradicted with the encyclopedia inside his head. He was thankful now that his consciousness wasn't so Time Lord-y and that he could tuck away all the facts that were defunct or incorrect here. But this was the same. It was more than that though. It was something he had done in the other universe that had carried over here. And what a magnificent thing it had been. He traipsed back into his bedroom and searched through his trouser pockets for a piece of TARDIS blue stationary he liked to keep handy and thought that after the cosmos had taken nearly everything for him, tonight they were giving him a break, more than a break: a sign. He wrote a simple note and placed it on her night stand, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful she looked sleeping there and tucked a stray golden tendril behind her ear before crawling back into his own bed.

* * *

She bounced down the stairs to find the Doctor standing in the foyer, the grin back upon his face and his arm held out, waiting to be hooked by hers. "Shall we be off then?" She nodded enthusiastically and seized his bicep in response.  
"Mum, we're heading out." Her voice echoed off the tall ceilings. She heard a scuffling coming from the direction of the kitchen and shortly after, Jackie and Tony appeared.

"Well, have fun doing whatever it is you're doing. Try not to run into any aliens trying to take over the world while you're out. I know how you two have a knack for that."

"Our plans for this afternoon are completely and absolutely safe, Jackie. Safer than safe. Safer than safer than safe. Cross my hearts and hope to die." He drew an X over each side of his chest before he caught himself and chuckled. "Sorry, just one now," the Doctor corrected himself in a delighted tone.

Jackie rolled her eyes and stifled a slight smile. "Say goodbye, Tony."

The pint-sized Tyler dashed in their direction and Rose braced herself for impact but Tony bypassed her completely and clung to the Doctor's leg instead.

"You're gonna come back, aren't you, Doctor?" Tony was still starstruck as he stared up into the Doctor's bewildered face. He was taken aback by the little human's affection. Rose couldn't remember the last time she had seen the Doctor miss a beat in a conversation—not with people from a thousand years ago, not with aliens that looked like nightmares, but this three year old child had left him speechless. Her mum probably hadn't noticed because for the Doctor, hesitation just put him at the same speed as everyone else, but she did. She looked on with tenderness.

"Yeah, of course. We'll be back in time to read you a bedtime story. Has Rose ever told you about Laylora?" Tony shook his head and his eyes got a bit brighter. "Ohh, she's being modest then, she was brilliant there. I'll tell you all about it tonight, all right?" The pair beamed at each other for a moment before he made a slight gesture of his head over to Rose who was watching them intently. "Now go hug your sister, I think she's getting jealous."

* * *

Though she'd only known Donna for a short time, she could see the bits and pieces of her inside the Doctor. Difference: slight road rage, affinity with children. The car stopped suddenly and Rose looked around curiously.

"You got me all dressed up so we could go to a fish'n'chips stand?" Her face wore a blatantly bemused expression as he helped her out of the town car. They were in a busy plaza in downtown London. A modest food truck was giving off the rich scent of chips and vinegar.

He held tight to her hand even after she'd stepped onto the pavement. "This is our first date. I figured we ought to get chips. On me, this time." She flashed him his favourite smile—that grin where her tongue slipped between her teeth and he had to wonder how anyone could have ever resisted it.

"Hold on, where'd you get money?"

"Ohhh, you know…around."

"What you were just mucking about and happened to find a couple pounds?"

His lighthearted manner wilted. "I, uh…I knew what he was planning on doing before he dropped us off on the Bay." He pointed to his forehead, "Same mind and all." He'd remembered the look they'd shared as _he_ set the coordinates. A glum understanding that only one would be returning on the TARDIS. He'd slipped off for a moment right before they landed to fill his pockets. Parts to build a new sonic screwdriver: check. The spare psychic paper: check. A handful of British currency: check. He had wondered how much he would need, in case Rose didn't want him and he'd have to start from scratch. Upon consideration, he'd grabbed another stack of bills.

"So I grabbed a couple of supplies to be better prepared for my new new life as the new new new Doctor." The liveliness slipped back into his tone as his hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out the money to wave before her eyes.

She gave his hand a squeeze and started to pull him in the direction of the wafting aroma of food. "Well, come on then. You owe me."

He gave her a toothy grin of his own. "Allonsy!"

* * *

"Ahh, here we are. Le Barbier de Sèville, Il Barbiere di Seviglia, or for you English lot, The Barber of Seville. Lovely opera with a lovely story behind it." He was grinning ear to ear, that smile with the dimples.

Rose was still a little confused at his choice of venues. She'd assumed the chips were his only plan, but should have known that wasn't quite grandiose enough for the Doctor. She'd been so used to his "surprises" from before, the ones where she would wake up to find they were in another galaxy or where she'd dress for 1979 and end up meeting Queen Victoria…she wasn't sure what she had been expecting. They didn't have the TARDIS here and he didn't know this universe well enough, despite his overnight research, to know if there was some big alien ship crashing into Big Ben today. Usually their adventures found them and despite the splendor of the Royal Opera House, she couldn't say she wasn't a bit disappointed.

"I've never been to a proper opera before."

They intertwined fingers and he led her inside. She was quickly overwhelmed by the torrent coming out of the Doctor's mouth and the exquisite decoration all around her. "Oh, they're magnificent. Dancing and singing and costumes. This one's based off a play by Beaumarchais, brilliant playwright. We were friends, but I'll get to that. Speaking of, did I ever tell you I met Shakespeare? Bit too flirty for my tastes, but Martha was certainly taken with him. Too much like Jack, really. Ohh, you remember the Face of Boe? That's Jack."

"No," she commented in disbelief.

"Oh yeah. Oh! And then there was—"

Rose started chortling uncontrollably as his arm found her shoulders.

"What?"

"You've got to slow down."

"There's just so much to tell you. So much I wish you could have seen."

"And we will see it someday, when the TARDIS is all grown."

"But a lot of it won't be the same."

"Then we've got the rest of our slow human lives for you tell me all about it."

Here he was, speechless again, it seemed to be a human condition he'd been infected with. She'd been tender towards him since they arrived in Pete's World but she'd been subtly guarded all the while, as though she were still evaluating him. He'd suggested a life together back on the beach, but he'd been treading carefully, afraid to assume too much of their new relationship, afraid that she'd changed her mind about staying with him forever because he wasn't technically the man she'd committed herself to. This was the first time she'd implied that she had accepted his offer. It took everything in him not to begin blurting out the motives for bringing her here and the only conceivable way to keep the words off his lips were to press them to hers. At this rate, he would kiss her more in the first 72 hours in this universe than he ever did for those twoish years they spent together in the other one. He felt a twinge of sympathy for _him_ but it was gone as quickly as it came. Certainly _he_ would understand that he simply couldn't help himself.

* * *

The pair took their seats and Rose began to flip through the playbill. She had hardly gotten through the first page before the Doctor ripped it from her hands. "Unnecessary, I'll tell you the whole thing right now."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Knowing the ending?"

"Weeellll, the soprano nearly always dies, but this one you're gonna want to hear." He smirked at her with a knowing look in his eyes. "As you know, not everything in the parallel universe is opposing or negating something from the other. For example, just because you have telly in one world, doesn't mean they never figured out the cathode-ray tube in the other. It's mostly major events, the kind that timelines converge on—"

"Yeah, yeah I know all this stuff. Whadya think I did here at Torchwood all that time?"

"Right, of course, Rose Tyler Defender of the Earth, clever enough to find me through cracks in time, saved the multiverse; I don't need to explain this stuff to you anymore."

"I'm no DoctorDonna, but I've picked up a thing or two." His heart sank. She didn't know what had happened to Donna, how could she? Would it break her heart to know that _he _was travelling alone now? Had she only chose to stay here with him because she thought that at least _he_ would have Donna Noble to keep up with _him_, to keep _him_ in check, to keep _him_ happy? Was it better if she didn't know? He concluded there was no reason to spoil their evening with things they couldn't do anything about.

"Get on with it." She said with a smile that was infectious and reformed on his own face.

"So, The Barber of Seville was an important opera. Considered one of the great comedy masterpieces of all time. Launched careers of aspiring singers…so it carried over, much like the telly. But I'd been a little concerned it might not exist here, considering I don't seem to, and I inspired the whole thing."

"You inspired an opera?"

"Well, don't say it like you can't believe it. You've spent all your life reading about me in history books and you didn't even know it."

"All right, all right, so you inspired an opera," she conceded playfully. "Is that why we're here? Is one of the tenors gonna show up on stage in a pinstriped suit and trainers?"

"No, it's much more subtle than that. It all started one night when I was in 18th century Madrid, getting a drink with Pierre Beaumarchais after a long day of his trying to marry off his sister. In my timeline, I'd say it was about…eh…six weeks ago. Turned out that dear old Lisette was engaged to a particularly cross Haxalian trying to infiltrate the Spanish Ministry of War so I soniced his antenna and scrambled him up so he forgot his whole master plan. A bit of an anti-climactic fight, not my best. I guess they figured no one in 1764 would have that sort of technology. So, Pierre, my good fellow, invited me out to celebrate and I figured, why not, so there we are, a bit lashed, and he asks for more tales of aliens in Madrid, so I tell him about Count Almaviva, who I'd helped out of a similar situation—some aliens really have a thing for ensnaring pre-revolutionary women. They're all so bothered with getting married that they hardly even care whom to."

He was interrupted by a slight smack on the arm. "Doctor, you're being rude again."

"Am I? So sorry. Where was I? Right! Count Almaviva, infatuated with a young lady who was being cooped up by a fool calling himself a Doctor who'd been snatching up girls to feed to an Ectovore. He was quite the romantic and wanted the girl to fall in love with him for him rather than the fact that he was saving her life so while I went undercover as a barber to sneak into the "Doctor's" home to deal with the Ectovore, the Count was off pretending to be a pauper to win her heart. It all worked out in the end, that showdown was a bit more exciting but the symphony's going to start warming up in a minute and I don't think I quite have the time to do it justice. So, the Count and his lady get married and live happily ever after, etcetera. So I tell this story to Beaumarchais and he thinks it's brilliant. He writes it all down and claims he'll write a play of it as he'd always wanted to be a playwright and obviously being a government spy wasn't working out for him. The next afternoon, once poor Pierre had recovered from our evening out, I sought him out and helped him tweak a few of the details to make it a bit less spacey-wacey and a bit more Earthy-wearthy. He asked what Mrs. Count's name had been but I couldn't remember, just that she was lovely and had put up quite a fight. She reminded me a bit of you. So I proposed he name her "Rose". He made it a bit more Spanish and it came out as "Rosine", despite my suggestions otherwise. I kept thinking that it'd be a message to you somehow. That you'd see it and know I hadn't forgotten you."

He hadn't been looking at her while he gave his monologue so when he paused and glanced down at her face, he'd been surprised to see the glint of silent tears streaking her cheeks. He'd thought it a bit strange that she'd allowed him to talk for so long without interjecting but only now did he realize why.

All of her insides felt like they'd been twisted up the way a necklace does when you slip it in your pocket: the knots and turns are inexplicable, you can't tell how they got there, but there they are all the same and it's such a headache to try and untangle it all. She knew he'd been trying to prove to her that he was the same Doctor, _her _Doctor. He'd brought her here to give her a gift he never thought he could. He'd wanted to prove his mind was the same, that his heart was the same. But she couldn't swallow the nagging sense that the other Doctor had written her a love note in history, that he'd needed her, that he still did. And this one, the human, believed it had been him. But it hadn't, had it? You'd think after all that time travelling in the TARDIS and working for Torchwood, seeing all those impossible things, going to impossible places, doing impossible acts, that she'd be able to stomach something like this. The strange paradox of his existence. She didn't know whether she should adore the one in front of her more, or mourn the one lost from her forever. The sonorous sound of the oboe singing out concert pitch shook her from her thoughts and she remembered the man in front of her, this tribute of the Doctor. No matter what he was, even if he wasn't truly 100% the man she loved, he was a part of _him_ still, and she ought to treasure him for it for now.

He watched the emotions dance on her face, more intriguing than anything they'd put on the stage this night. She wasn't saying anything. Had he gone too far? Had he pushed her out of his arms and back into _his_ with his revelation? "It's quite stupid, really. Of course you wouldn't know it was for you. 'Rose' is a fairly common name."

Difference: more obvious with his self-deprecation. She was afraid this had been a trait he'd inherited from Donna, the most important woman in all of creation who thought she wasn't worth a second thought from anyone. "Shut up. It's not stupid at all. I wish I had known somehow. I went to the museum here, thinking that maybe against all the odds, that statue would be there. The one you made of me with Michelangelo," Her eyes lit up as the memories came up and her smile returned. "Of course, it wasn't, but I'd just wanted a sign of some sort. I knew you'd be happy to see me when I came back, I knew that no matter what I had to go and help. But there was always that fear that you'd replaced me entirely and it would be like Sarah Jane all over again. But it wasn't that way, was it? Martha knew me, Donna knew me. I didn't just disappear, you went off and wrote my name into history with yours."

"I could never replace you, Rose Tyler." There was an unspoken understanding that _he_ never would either.

"Thank you for this. Thank you for taking me here. Oh, it's starting." Their hands found one another as the curtains drew up and the overture began.

He didn't need to watch the show—he'd lived it. Instead he saw it through her visage, which was infinitely more beautiful with her new comprehension. She grinned whenever Rosine was clever and laughed at Figaro's antics, often glancing over his way as if to ask "Did you really do that?" But as Act II approached its finale, tears brimmed her eyelids, nearly unseen if he hadn't been looking so intently, and he realized he'd made a mistake. That she had found another hidden layer of the story. He was no longer Figaro in her eyes, _he_ was. He had taken the role of the Count, trying to win her favour by proving his worth, while Figaro selflessly pushed the two of them together. Little Rosine was happy enough, but was her namesake? Or did she wish the soprano would grab Figaro's hand as he sauntered off stage and whisper, "Wait."

If she had indeed had any emotional discoveries during the opera, she hid them well on the way home, leaning her body into his and resting her head on his shoulder as she dozed off in the car. He did his best to tame his emotions as well, finding a portion of empathy and not wanting _him_ to feel this sense that they had failed her.


	3. Felspoon

[[Playlist is: Make Believe by The Burned, Words by Gregory Alan Isakov, Old Skin by Jeremy Messersmith, Can't Help Falling In Love by Ingrid Michaelson, and Firefly by Ed Sheeran.]]

_Teach my skin those new tricks; warm me up with your lips_  
_Heart to heart, melt me down; it's too cold in this town_  
_Close your eyes, lean on me, face to mouth, lips to cheek_  
_Feeling numb in my feet; You're the one to help me get to sleep_

His head sunk into the silky pillow like molasses. He had carried Rose's sleeping body to her own bed, slipping off her heels and lying her down onto the ocean of blankets with such care. Tony had shown up in the doorway, apparently too big for his crib now as he could climb out easily, and asked for the bedtime story he was promised. The Doctor had obliged him, though the toddler had dozed off halfway through. He had found another pair of flannel pajamas lain out on his bed and realized despite all the times he'd saved their lives from alien invaders, he'd never truly be able to repay the Tyler's hospitality. Tonight, he was determined to sleep.

Mountains swaying in the vigorous winds. Jagged edges of rock become rubber in the breeze. A soft violet sky with puffs of cottony clouds floating past. Giant reptilian birds that looked like painted dragons perched on trees a hundred meters tall and fifteen meters thick, shrieking in the background and making some sort of unharmonious song. A cityscape with oddly shaped buildings, rounded ones, squared ones, pentagons and arches. Hands in his trouser pockets, sliding the diamond ring with the purple cloth tied round it on and off his pinky finger. The tails of his trench coat being caught up in those violent gusts. An ache in his hearts and a yearning in his bones. Slow, calculated steps towards the city's edge. Locals who looked like they were made out of emeralds—sharp angles and bright green skin. A man shouting for help in an alley a few blocks down. A grin creeping onto his lips as he began running in the sound's direction. A dragon bird (Dracotel was their proper name he realized) attacking the viridescent man, his arms shielding his face. A sonic screwdriver pulled from his blazer and set to an unsettling frequency to drive the Dracotel away. The man thanking him and explaining that they didn't usually come into the city and something had been making them act strangely lately. That smile transforming his mouth once again as he mentally accepted the challenge.

He awoke abruptly, nearly sitting up in his bed, flexing his fingers to make sure this universe, this room, this body was reality. The images were vivid, like watching a film on the 3D telly in the Tyler's family room. But it was more than that. He felt like he was there. Was it a dream of wishful thinking? Living the adventure that he and Donna never got to have? Or was _he _there and sending these transmissions subconsciously? He'd been here for two days now. 48 hours in one place wasn't something unheard of for him. He'd often stayed much longer to solve enigmas or just for holiday. All this time, in his mind, he'd been approaching all this like he had Christmas dinner at the Powell Estate in 2006. It was a stop along the way, an interlude between stories, a domestic break from all his running. But it wasn't. He was here for good. Time would stay linear for him now and other galaxies would be something he looked at in telescopes. At least for a while…but five years was a long time when it all went slowly and in order. Even with Rose beside him.

He dozed off again. This time the dream was different. Simpler. An old Gallifreyan folk song was playing over the intercom. His fingers grazed over the TARDIS's control panel. He danced wistfully, without the partner he was meant to have for the waltz. He used the railways to facilitate his turns and at one point shouted, "Go on! Turn it up. You know my favourite part is coming" into the ceiling.

This time it was harder to distinguish between memory and correspondence. He realized he missed her, the TARDIS. She had been his oldest friend, always taking him where he needed to go—even if it wasn't where he meant to go. He missed the feel of her grated floor underneath his trainers. He missed wiping his greasy fingerprints from her screens. He missed the way she seemed to sing him to sleep with her gentle hum. He missed the screech of her take off sequence. He missed how she sometimes understood his companions better than he did and bent to their wishes when he refused to.

He wrestled with the idea of falling back asleep and having more torturous dreams or going back to the computer and skimming through more databases. Neither proved the victor, as the warmth of Rose Tyler's body climbing into bed and wrapping around his nearly made him jump.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine. I wasn't really sleeping." Her arms linked around his waist and he pulled himself in closer to her hips.

"I can't believe I sacked off like that."

His silence echoed off the naked walls of the room, picking up severity as it made its way back to their ears.

"Did Tony get his bedtime story?" Her tone had that compassionate edge of worry covered with the façade of lightness.

"Yep."

"Oh, good."

More silence. More deafening this time.

"Doctor…what is it?" The blanket of luster slid off and the anxiousness was revealed.

His hands found hers, still folded right above his bellybutton. "Why are you in here, Rose?"

"What?" She acted as though the answer were obvious, as though this sort of behavior were normal, which it had been back on the TARDIS, but they weren't on the TARDIS anymore.

He turned around within her clutch to face her. "I know what you saw in that opera. I know what you think of me. I know you don't think I'm him. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm him anymore."

Her fingers unfolded and her arms found their way back to her own space. "Of course you are. You feel the same, you taste the same, you've got a bit more road rage, but…"

"It's not a joke, Rose. What am I?" His voice took that same vulnerability it had back on that beach all those years ago when she'd told him she loved him and he couldn't find the words to say it back.

She stared him hard in the face, remembering the first time she looked at him, really looked at him, two days ago…it seemed like ages now. She'd been looking for differences then and wanting to give them all negative connotations. Her list had grown since then, with the "Sames" column prevailing indisputably, mostly because that's what she'd been seeking out: proof that this was truly the Doctor. But after the opera and his romantic gesture and his affinity with Tony and the fragility in his eyes as he looked to her for confirmation, the differences were gaining prominence and forcing themselves to be considered. Besides his temper (which if she was being honest, as long as it wasn't causing him to murder thousands of Daleks, she found a bit alluring), none of them had truly made him deficient in any way and though she'd doubted him earlier this evening, she saw him clearly now. He was the Doctor—not her old Doctor, the one who skirted around his feelings for her because he'd lose her someday or inadvertently made her feel inferior because of the confines of her humanity or avoided domestics because they reminded him of the home he didn't have or had a bit of a moral complex to compensate for the war he'd ended with double genocide—but her new Doctor who wasn't frightened to love her, who was her equal, who would share Sunday chores and be at Tony's football games, and who shouted obscenities at the bloke on the motorbike who cut them off on the freeway.

When she'd fallen in love with the Doctor originally, it had been wearily. A part of her knew that she had already won his hearts, but it had taken that new regeneration—the one that had grown out of her and wore his emotions on his pinstriped sleeve—to allow herself to dream of a lifetime with him. She'd relinquished her thoughts of human milestones such as a wedding in the church where her mum and dad said their vows, an infant to coddle and wear her old baby jumpers, a flat in Greenwich tucked somewhere between the Thames and the Uni. They were small prices to pay for what the Doctor gave her in return.

But in this instant, with the new promise of those renounced daydreams being available to her along with the Doctor and his TARDIS rather than an either or, with all his new "flaws" reevaluated and concluded to be endearing, with the way a fugitive tear drop skiied down the slopes of his freckled cheek, she found herself falling in love anew with this same but different man whom she'd slipped into bed with.

Her arms solicited the comfort of his figure once again. "You're the Doctor, and I'm Rose Tyler." He surrendered himself to her embrace and his expression regained its natural pluck. "All the rest is details." Her lips grazed his forehead in a gesture he'd so often used to comfort her in the past.

"I love you." It was softer than when he'd said it before. The first time, it had been like a torrent gushing out of him, zealous and beyond his control. But this time, it was as though he were saying something as obvious as that the Earth's sky was blue because of light frequencies and the way they scattered in the atmosphere. Loving Rose Tyler was simply a fact of his being.

"Quite right, too," she retorted with that inviting grin that he chased off her face with a kiss before they drifted off into sleep. This time his dreams were not of Felspoon or adventures _he_ was off having now, but of the time he and a certain pink and yellow human in a Union Jack t-shirt had danced to Glenn Miller up in the stars.

* * *

They'd woken up early so as to evade Jackie's interrogation on what they'd done last night and how'd they end up in the same bed and how lucky they were Tony hadn't been the one to catch them sneaking about. He'd riffled through his Time Lord pockets for the chunk of coral before they tiptoed down the stairs and out to the garden in back. They picked a spot in the corner, just beyond the pond and far from Tony's swingset.

"Can we put it here, out in the open like this?"

"Who's going to see it? You haven't got a neighbor for kilometers. Besides, we can see it from your bedroom window this way."

"Right, but that's not gonna be our room for the whole five years…" Her bottom lip slipped underneath her teeth as she made the suggestion, unsure of what his reaction would be.

He'd noted not only the proposition of their moving out together, but the inclusion of the word 'our' to say he was welcome to her bed once again. He smirked and nodded as though this verdict had been obvious from the start. "Right, well, still, I think it's as good a spot as any."

She'd been holding the coral in her hands to inspect it, curious of its biology, and handed it to him as she spoke. "Will it be the same? When it's grown?"

"It ought to be. The chameleon circuit will try to make her blend in with her surroundings but she changes for her pilots, for their wants and needs, and I think she'll know what we want her to be. She's clever that way." His tone was sentimental, as though he were speaking of an old classmate or a deceased relative. But the TARDIS was more than that, really.

"How does it grow? Like a plant?"

"A bit. You don't bury it in soil or anything but you can think of the coral like a seed. The biology of it all is much too complicated for me to try and explain in human terms this early in the morning." He yawns and his face contorts into an expression of extreme displeasure. "I get groggy now. What a horrible humany feeling—grogginess. Rather useless, I think."

Rose chuckles and continues her interview. "Will it work? Because the other TARDIS didn't work here 'cause it wasn't in the right universe…it couldn't get its space fuel."

"Well that TARDIS was grown in that universe so it needed its cosmic energy to function, but this one will be grown here so it'll use our stars, our black holes, our mercury, our Zeiton 7….considering all the right ingredients still exist here." His single heart seemed to stop for a moment. The Eye of Harmony. The TARDIS fed off the Eye, the artificial black hole the Time Lords had created to sustain Gallifrey. What if its power didn't reach this far now that the paths between universes had been closed? What if they couldn't get the right energy and he'd never push her buttons or pull her levers or discover her chambers or hear that piercing sound? He'd figured there was enough Time Lord in him to activate the thing, but it wasn't enough to make her fly. He'd travelled between worlds so many times so many hundreds of years ago and had never thought to wonder what would happen if Gallifrey was destroyed and the void closed. The Cyber Network databases wouldn't tell him the things he needed to know about the Eye or his people.

"Rose, I think it's time we paid a visit to Torchwood."


	4. When The Doctor Dances

[[The idea that Eleven meets Rose as she's jumping all over the place with the dimension cannon isn't an original of mine. I read the theory somewhere and I'm sure it's been done before by others but it was just too good to pass up doing my own version of it. Playlist: And I Love Her by The Beatles, Take Care by Big Star, At Last by Glenn Miller, Home by Mumford and Sons, and Comes and Goes by Greg Laswell]]

_Spin me round just to pin me down_  
_I'll be gone by the night's end_  
_Spin me round just to pin me down_  
_But I'll be home in a little while_  
_Lover, I'll be home_

The hardest thing to get used to will be driving everywhere, the Doctor thought. Human transportation was so slow. However, he realized he minded less when the twenty-minute trip was spent with Rose's hand set casually on his knee. She was giving a monologue about how Torchwood was a bit different here, a bit rougher with no Jack Harkness dropping by to hand out innuendos at the region debriefings, and a bit more rash without a Doctor to hold them back. He didn't comprehend most of what she was saying because his mind had gone off on a tangent of its own. Despite his sermons of how important imagination and dreams and ingenuity and hope were, especially in a life as long as his, he was doing his best to stamp out any blooming flames of query within him. Best just to find the facts and accept them, whatever they may be.

Despite Rose's careful explanations of the divergences, stepping through the threshold felt like deja vu. Still, he could sense the change in environment—sterile and militaristic. He welcomed the contrast, however, as it softened the curling of his stomach that the place invoked. She, however, seemed unaffected and walked to the front desk with determination. He half expected to hear the jaw of the man sitting at the computer drop onto the cold marble floor as he set widened eyes upon the pair of them. The patch sewn onto his breast read "Thomas" and he stood hastily as they approached. His hand flung to his forehead as though it were pulled magnetically and the Doctor opened his mouth to protest but the voice he heard was not his own.

"I told you all, none of that."

The Doctor was humbled as he realized that Thomas was saluting to Rose and she had stolen his line. The man dropped his "at attention" stance and shook his head in acknowledgment.

"Yes, Miss Tyler. Sorry, Miss Tyler. We just….didn't expect to see you back here….ever."

He didn't like the twinge in her eyes as Thomas reminded her that she was neither in the world nor with the man she had intended. He instinctively grabbed her hand and found comfort in her surrender to his touch. Thomas's eyes widened even further in recognition, to the point where the Doctor imagined him as a cartoon character with jaws and eyes falling off his face and heart beating out of his chest.

"Are— Are you— You're the— The—"

"Yes, yes, spit it out then." His tone was a bit more condescending than he had meant but his grin had taken over the majority of his slightly scruffy face at being recognized by the time the last syllable has left his lips. "I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you, uh, Thomas, is it?" He nodded his head in reply.

"Well, are you gonna just stand around here gawking at us, or are you gonna take us up?" Rose's voice pulled Thomas from his daze and his posture went stiff again.

"Yes, of course, Miss Tyler. I apologize."

"No need to apologize; I tend to have that effect on people."

"Oh, get off it," she remarked with a teasing smile as her grip on his palm tightened and she swung their arms lightly while they walked towards the lift.

He sniggered in riposte and nudged her shoulder playfully as the elevator doors closed behind them.

* * *

Everyone they passed quickly stood and saluted in reverence as the pair made their way down the corridors. Some stared in shock, others in wonder, and most with a blend of the two. He could only imagine what sort of impression Rose had made on these people in her time here with her extensive knowledge of alien species, concepts of time travel, and irresistible charm. He realized he wouldn't be entirely surprised if they'd made it to the top floor and the lofty office in the corner had her name stamped on the door…except he knew it wouldn't, because she hadn't planned on coming back here.

She wanted to say their ridiculous show of deference had no affect on her, but she was only human, after all. Certainly, after spending her days as a shop girl believing that the highest ambition available to her was a managerial position at Henrik's, the fact that her name made respectable adults jump to attention was an indulgence. It hadn't started that way though, and she could remember clearly the first day she'd walked through those doors and nearly got sick right in the foyer. The fact that she didn't exist in their systems and could spew off facts about Gelth and Daleks had baffled them—so much so that they'd had to scan her completely to ensure she wasn't an alien herself. It had taken over a year before she'd brought up the Doctor, certain that despite their growing trust in her, they might be more inclined to throw her in the loony bin than consider her explanations. But once the stars started to go out, she knew it could not be avoided any longer. They'd needed him. She'd needed him.

For a long time, she'd consumed herself with work as a field agent. Sparring against Krillitaines (looking more like feline monstrosities in their true form this time rather than bats), negotiating with Liarians, leading a stray Star Whale calf back to its mother. Despite her usefulness on cases with species she'd already encountered, she often declined to consult on them as the memories conjured for recollection of necessary information made her fingers feel numb and her knees a bit weak. For the most part, she could keep the engulfing sense of loss at bay with the affections of her family and her hectic schedule. Only at night, when she told the tales of their adventures to a wide-eyed Tony, with lulling tones and soft smiles, did she give herself over and fall into its sea. Notwithstanding the nature of her job, the more fantastical she made her stories, the less they hurt and after a few short months, the tears no longer came.

But once the darkness came, she had to face it all. By the time a quarter of the stars had become empty patches of black in the night sky, Torchwood had taken on the case. When it got to half, they found themselves stumped and at a dead end. Rose had waited until two-thirds of those burning balls of gas had disappeared until she'd mentioned his name. She'd felt a small twinge of guilt for hesitating but she was too preoccupied by the new overwhelming sense of duty she'd acquired to dwell on it. It was a last resort for her to depend on the Doctor's help—after all this time of weaning herself off of him, learning she could only ever truly rely on herself. She'd spent a long time angry at him. Angry that he hadn't been clever enough to find a way back to her. Eventually, she grew up and let it go. Her unwavering trust in him diminished as time passed and she'd realized what she'd always known: that he wasn't a god and that the universe was bigger than them both. But all it had taken was an impossible situation with no solution in sight for all her faith in him to resurface, and more than that—faith in herself. Faith that she _was_ clever enough to get back. Torchwood was skeptical of her suggestions at first, though they played along. And then one day, it worked. There was a part of her that hoped it never would; that despite the evidence of the darkness growing in other worlds, the Doctor's would be immune or invincible or untouchable somehow. But she knew it was a wish in vain as soon as she'd produced it. Finally, they needed each other again, no matter how long they'd been apart living their separate lives, convincing themselves they didn't.

She hadn't packed any bags, considering the dimension cannon was operating under a "guess and check" strategy. She remembered the day she'd come home, beaming more than she had in over a year, and Jackie had thought she'd met a bloke. It was the first day her makeshift time and relative dimension machine had worked and while there were warnings in the back of her mind relating to all the reasons she had finally succeeded, they seemed kilos away with the realization that she would see him again.

"What's his name?"

Rose had nearly burst into maniacal laughter right there at the kitchen table but the realization that she was about to tell her mother that she was choosing the Doctor over her once again quickly stifled her giggles.

"I have to go, Mum. I have to warn him. I have to help him. He's the only one who can save us, and you know it."

"If you make it there, you're not coming back, are you?" Jackie had reached out for Rose's hands and held them within hers over the mahogany surface. Long moments of silence passed as they stared into one another's eyes with both unspoken tension and understanding.

If she'd known her mum was going to follow her through, she would have told her less about it but none of that mattered now.

* * *

She'd encountered him once during her trial and error period before she got to the right place. They'd finally been able to focus it in on the right parallel world, but were having less luck pinpointing the right decade. It'd been in an American nightclub in the 1940's and she'd been vastly underdressed. The cannon wasn't set to take her back for fifteen minutes still and she'd resigned herself to being a wallflower watching the ladies twirl in their big skirts. Then she'd seen him. He'd been staring for at least five minutes before she'd returned his gaze. He too was a bit strangely dressed and had taken to observing rather than engaging. His mouth was slightly agape and he didn't avert his eyes when she met them. It had taken less than a proper second for her to realize it was _him_. His face was different and though he'd taken the appearance of a younger man, he looked so ancient. He'd looked so much older, in fact, that she'd assumed he was hundreds of years ahead and their time together had come and passed naturally. She met him on the dance floor, ignoring the glares of the locals. The band had gone soft as though following some hidden cue and the tune of "At Last" became familiar to her ears.

"May I have this dance?"

She replied by placing her hand in his and letting him wrap his other around her waist.

"You're old." She'd resorted to stating the obvious to avoid the more prominent questions twisting in her gut.

"Yes. Rose Tyler, the master of deduction. I'm quite old." He was sarcastic but there was the evidence of a smile on the corners of his lips.

"You know what I mean. Your face has changed again. Bit of a chin on this one." Her own smile crept up on her.

His hand left her hip to grab at the aforementioned flaw and the smirk left his mouth to form a frown. "What's wrong with my chin?"

"Nothing," she answered with a chuckle. "Still handsome as ever."

_At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over and life is like a song._

He pulled her closer, his arm finding its place back in the crook of her back. "Glenn Miller," he remarked casually.

"Glenn Miller is here?" Her eyebrows climbed up her forehead in delight.

"No, no, it's December 1942. He's off trying to join the war effort in Montgomery. But this is his song. Number nine on the charts right now. Quite impressive. Funny that I should find you here with this melody as the background of our liaison." Their minds travelled in unison back to the TARDIS, after visiting London 1941 and rescuing Jack from blowing himself up, "In the Mood" blaring over the speakers and as he spun her around the control room.

"Yeah, funny. Are you here alone?" She hadn't seen him look towards anyone but her since she stepped into the club but she wasn't proud enough to think that meant he hadn't replaced her.

"Yes. Just me and the TARDIS for now."

She wanted to ask him why. She wanted to ask just how old he was. She wanted to ask so many questions. Some answers were obvious: she now knew that she'd find him and they'd save the multiverse considering he lived long enough to change again. She knew that they weren't together at this point in his life if he was here on his own. "How long's it been since you've seen me?" She knew she was crossing a line that she oughtn't but his eyes were just so despondent, his touch so hungry for her…

"Don't ask me that, Rose."

_I found a dream that I can speak to; a dream that I can call my own._

She rested her head on his shoulder, closing any remaining space between them and they swayed together as one. She felt a drop of moisture fall onto her hair. She lifted her eyes to see the trail of a tear down his cheek. "Doctor…"

"Oh, it's no matter. Before the song ends, though, I just want to tell you one thing. One thing I meant to tell you so long ago. Something I should have said to you every day I had you. No, don't interrupt, it's rude. I love you, Rose Tyler. I know you knew it all along, but now it's been said out loud for all the cosmos to hear. You don't need to say it back, you don't owe me that. You've always been more gracious with your words than I have. Now, let's just dance and enjoy ourselves."

She swallowed hard and nodded in reply. Her head fell back to its previous position and their bodies undulated in harmony for the remainder of the song. As the last line was sung, he cupped her chin and brought her lips to his. It was not desperate, as she had expected, nor passionately like he'd done before. It was the kind of gentle kiss you give someone you've loved all your life. She was growing confident that she was destined to spend out the rest of her days with the Doctor telling her he loved her a bit too sparsely while heated, stolen kisses grew into soft, familiar ones and her chest grew warm with contentment.

_And here we are in Heaven for you are mine at last._

She nearly didn't hear her watch beep as the audience broke out into applause. 5:00.

"Your time is almost up." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, five minutes."

"I suppose we ought to make it a fantastic five minutes then."

A goofy grin took over his face, not tight-lipped like her first Doctor's and not toothy like her second's, but childish in nature. She'd almost call it innocent if she didn't recognize the loneliness it hid. He immediately dipped her as an upbeat song began and they both forgot that they only had approximately 280 more seconds together. She laughed heartily as they twirled in circles around the other couples, attracting even more stares as they went along.

The song ended and another high-pitched chime came from her wrist.

"Thirty seconds."

He tried to smile again but this one wasn't as convincing.

"Don't worry, I'll be seeing you real soon. In a way." Her tone had been sincere and playful. Her spirits had been lifted. All her doubts surrounding seeing the Doctor again, _her_ Doctor, had been washed away in this magical quarter of an hour. She was looking forward to living all the new memories this older Doctor had of the pair of them. Perhaps she'd even get to meet this regeneration in its novice years.

"Yes, soon. I'm so very glad I got to spend this evening with you." She'd ignored the heaviness in his voice, mistaking it as a consequence of his age.

"Yeah, it was nice, wasn't it." The two grinned in silence at one another for a moment, studying each other's faces one last time.

"Goodbye, Rose Tyler." He'd said her name so many times in their short time together, like a reformed alcoholic having his first sip of wine in ages, savouring its forgotten taste on his tongue.

"Goodbye, Doctor. Oh! I nearly forgot! I'm digging the bowtie."

She faintly heard him mutter "Bowties are cool," in a dejected tone as the scenery around her faded and she woke up in the frigid Torchwood warehouse again.

* * *

Now as her footsteps echoed on the marble floors of Torchwood Tower, she realized she'd misinterpreted the entire encounter, thinking his eyes had been sad at resting on her youthful image because he'd watched her wither and die, rather than because he'd given her up. She glanced to her right at the slender man walking in stride through the lengthy corridors. The man who would tell her he loved her a million times before _he_ ever worked up the courage to say it once. No, that wasn't fair. She understood why _he_ hadn't said it in Norway three days ago. It was cruel of her to hold that unspoken truth over _his_ head now and she knew it. She studied her new Doctor's face yet again, letting it sink in that he would always have these features. He would never go through whatever loneliness and torment and changes the other Doctor had gone through to become that man she had danced with in 1942. But she had loved that ancient and broken man still. Was her heart destined to be split in half by these two men—one in the same yet still so different—for the rest of her life?

He caught her gaze and smiled a familiar smile, the one he gave when he was excited to be stepping into the unknown, to be taking seemingly foolish risks. For all they knew, it was foolish, as the agents here could easily overpower them and whisk the Doctor away to a lab to be studied indefinitely. But he'd insisted on coming, despite the hazards. _Same_: disregard for danger. Finally they reached the end of the maze of hallways and doors and found themselves in at the threshold of a large corner office with the name "Henry Garrott" on a plaque upon the oversized desk. The man's eyes enlarged at her sight as well, like it was a side effect of her presence.

"Tyler. You're back."

"Yeah, and I brought a souvenir."


	5. Torchwood

** [[I wrestled with this chapter for a long time trying to decide on the direction I wanted to go. I hope you all enjoy it. Recommended playlist is: Skinny Love by Bon Iver, Babel by Mumford and Sons, Silver Soul by Beach House, Soldier On by The Temper Trap, We Are Nowhere And It's Now by Bright Eyes, and Coming Down by Dum Dum Girls.]]**

_Waves crash along the battered, lonely lighthouse. _  
_Tomorrow, she's gone and if not, someday, somehow. _  
_Are these hands a waste? _  
_Well, this side of mortality is scaring me to death._

"Bloody hell, it's you." Henry gaped as he slowly stood from his chair and gripped his desk for stability.

"Right, I'm the Doctor. Pleasure." He held out his hand but Henry just stared in awe. He ran his rejected palm through the hair that didn't tousle quite right without the alien gel he used to use before dropping it to his side. "And I thought I was the rude one," he mumbled to Rose, who stifled a grin and nudged his shoulder in response.

Henry finally recollected himself and shook the daze from his head as he walked around his desk to meet them.

"I suppose thanks are in order—to both of you. You should've seen this place when it happened. I swear the whole building shouted '_She did it' _in unison." He made a goofy gesture to imitate celebration and his inflection followed suit. Rose snickered to try and alleviate the awkwardness.

"So, uh…my gratitude on behalf of Torchwood, Agent Tyler. And Doctor. I'm a bit flummoxed, however at your presence. And his." He gestured to the Doctor with a nod of his head.

Henry Garrott had taken the Doctor by surprise. From Rose's description of the operations here along with the harsh, sterile feel of the place, he had expected someone all rough around the edges with a stern expression permanently painted on their face. Not this man here with the softly curled coif and perfectly squared incisors. Henry's muted grey pupils were charming but the Doctor could see the hidden rigidity he was sure Henry utilized in order to gain the position he had. Perhaps he was a genius, perhaps he was just manipulative, but whatever it was the Doctor didn't trust it.

He glanced over at Rose and recognized her discomfort—her unwillingness to admit she had ended up back here with him against her will and searching for the explanation of his existence that she didn't fully understand yet. The Doctor took his cue.

"Weeelll, I'm not exactly the Doctor. I mean, I am him, but I'm human. Well, I'm not human, but I'm more human. My other more Time Lordy self thought we would do more good here, helping you lot out. So, what's on the schedule today, boys? Sontarans? Qetesh? The Cult of Chii?"

He clapped his hands together, stuck them in his trouser pockets, and rocked on the heels of his Chuck Taylors. He was back in his royal blue suit. Jackie had taken it to the cleaners yesterday morning. Luckily, he had caught her on her way out and emptied the pockets while she shook her head and muttered something about a Mary Poppins. Rose had insisted he wear it today because he was "alien enough (despite his being part human now) without looking like a cast member of Hair."

Henry caught himself staring again. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a high-pitched beeping from his phone and a succeeding voice.

"Mr. Garrott, your presence is requested on sublevel five. Fosters insists it is urgent."

Henry made his way back around the other side of his desk to push a button.

"Yes, I'll make my way down." The smoke in his eyes seemed to connect with the chestnut in hers and the Doctor was forgotten. "I really must deal with this before we have another quarantine on our hands. You know what a bother that was last time." Rose nodded her head in response and gave an understanding smile but Henry's gaze lingered a bit too long and could only be broken by the Doctor's slight clearing of his throat.

"Right, well, there are logistics to be discussed of course, but if you are everything Miss Tyler built you up to be, you are welcome here. For now. Rose, feel free to show him around a bit. Just try not to get your noses into anything."

Rose put her hands up in an innocent gesture. "I would never," she replied in a playfully sarcastic tone.

"Mmm-hmm," he answered in a similar flavor. "I trust you two can show yourselves out. Pleasure to finally meet you, Doctor."

Henry passed by them and disappeared behind the lift doors, along with his entourage. The Doctor's mouth tasted sour as though he'd just bitten into a pear. He realized why the man made him uneasy. He would have preferred the rugged military type over this foggy mirror image of himself that Rose seemed so casual with.

"You two seem awfully cozy." He couldn't hide the bitter edge to his tone.

"Yeah, well, when you've got to convince the head of Torchwood Tower to pool all his resources into something as complicated and unreliable as the Dimension Cannon, you have to get a bit cozy."

His frown grew comical.

"Oi, not like that," she reassured him with a grin and her arm linking with his. He'd been unsuccessful in the cataloguing of his jealousy and it crept back to the forefront of his swarming consciousness. Another side effect of humanity. He'd been jealous of Rose and her proximity to other men before—Jack, Adam, Mickey. But his Time Lord emotions were so much more malleable. Besides, he'd been around to remind her that he loved her best back then. But she'd been living without him for years now, had accepted the fact that he was lost to her, and had perhaps considered moving on before the darkness began to fall. This sort of jealousy was more difficult to file away because he wasn't even sure he had the right to feel it.

"Come on, then. Let's go find what we came here for." She led him through the threshold and the pair barely made it ten paces before the lift doors reopened to reveal a more familiar face.

Jake had aged considerably since the Doctor had last seen him. His gaze had hardened and his boyish spikes were replaced with a militaristic buzz cut. Unlike everyone else they'd met so far, there was no wonder or joy in his eyes as they pierced Rose and the Doctor.

"Rose." He managed to make her name sound like an accusation and the Doctor couldn't help but feel it was unworthy on his lips.

Rose swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to find her voice. "Jake."

"Jakey boy!" The Doctor proclaimed with a toothy grin and an inappropriately cheerful tone.

Jake looked over at the Doctor as if only now noticing his presence and his brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "I heard the commotion going 'round that you were back here but I had to see it to believe it." He sounded as though he were talking through gritted teeth. "Where's Mickey?"

She fell silent and slipped her bottom lip underneath her front teeth. The Doctor could tell she was trying to pick the perfect words to try and explain the situation as carefully and compassionately as she could but Jake was too impatient for tact.

"Rose, where is he?"

"I'm sorry, Jake. He didn't make it back." The words came from the Doctor's mouth rather than Rose Tyler's and she turned to him hastily with a look of astonishment. It seemed to be going around.

"I knew it," Jake retorted with pursed lips. "I knew it. I told him not to go. That he ought to stop chasing after you like a lost puppy. 'Course you two come back without a scratch, but it's never him, is it?"

"Jake, wait," Rose protested as he shook his head and disregarded the lift to dash towards the staircase and run down who knows how many flights.

"What'd you do that for?" Her condemning tone was directed at the Doctor now and he replied with his own expression of incredulity.

"Well, you weren't exactly quick to correct me, were you? Better he makes a clean break."

"By what? Thinking Mickey's dead?"

"Isn't that better? Than knowing he left voluntarily? That he's short a best mate again because he was sick of being the tin dog and wanted another fresh start away from us? That he's still out there somewhere? Better not to give him false hope."

Rose was speechless for a moment. She recognized this Doctor well enough. He looked a bit different without the protruding nose and the northern accent, but it was as though she were looking that same man from the basement in Utah in the face all over again. She hadn't seen it since they'd arrived in this world, but she recognized now why _he_ had left this man in her care.

"And what about me? When I was stuck here and you were off on your own? You'd have rather thought I was dead than here living a life, day to day?" It was almost cruel of her to bring up Bad Wolf Bay with a few grains of its sand still stuck in the grooves of her trainers but maybe that was what he needed.

"That's different," he claimed with a dip of his head.

"No, it really isn't." She wasn't angry, really. She had loved that Dumbo-eared Doctor back then and almost welcomed the memory of him in the darker corners of her mind. If she were to give a name to it, it would be disillusionment. This man was not the man whose hand she'd held on the Crucible—oh, it felt like a lifetime ago now. This was not the man who had turned back to attempt to save Davros or the countless others who hadn't deserved his mercy. She thought she had come to love this version on his own terms, but maybe that was when she'd thought he was just the Doctor with a pinch of Donna's idiosyncrasies, maybe she was still learning.

"He won't talk to me now; I'll have to find him and explain later." She sighed and retook his arm. "This way." He followed her in quiet resignation.

She led him through several corridors until they came to a stop in front of a door with the nameplate taken out. Rose opened the door to reveal a fairly empty room, save the desk, chair, and computer. There were remains of dust on the bookshelves outlining the absence of the books it once held. The trashcan in the corner had a short stack of papers within it and the blinds were still half-drawn.

"Was this yours?" He didn't really phrase it as a question.

"Yeah, well, it didn't get much use. I was usually down in the warehouse working more hands on, but before that, I needed a place to do all my paperwork safe from Tony's impromptu crayon portraits." Her mood had lightened, he assumed in order to contrast the implications this room put forward. No one mentioned the vacuity. No one mentioned the reason for it.

The Doctor assumed his place in the chair facing the computer. Simple 21st century technology, with touch screens and scanners. He pulled his glasses out of his blazer pocket and placed them on his nose. His hand reached to another pocket for his sonic screwdriver and was reminded by the rattle of spare parts under his fingers that he hadn't taken the time to build it yet. Rose noticed this familiar gesture and snickered.

"Sorry, gonna have to do it the old fashioned way." She rolled the chair with him inside it out of the way and crouched in front of the screen. Of course, "old fashioned" in Pete's World meant that a green laser ray sprouted out from the corner and began scanning her pupils.

"Systems rebooted. Level Seven Clearance granted. Welcome, Rose Tyler." An electronic voice greeted her and the screen flashed to life.

"Just how much clearance have you got?"

"Let's just say, I saw a bloke legging it from a lab who seemed to have grown a tail through his trousers and I never went past sublevel eight again." Her tongue found its way to that favourite spot of his between her grinning rows of teeth and he couldn't help but reciprocate. She stood aside as he rolled back up to the computer. She took a seat on the corner of the desk and began kicking her feet. "So what exactly is it you're looking for?"

His fingers were gliding across the screen frantically. He was pleasantly surprised that he could still read so quickly, considering that so far this human body had done little more than burden him. "Anything about Gallifrey or the Time Vortex, really. Considering Time Lords are all but a myth even on Level One planets, I'm going to have to scavenge a bit to find anything of substance."

She'd done her own investigation of Time Lords when she'd gotten here. There were no direct files on Gallifrey and despite the bits and pieces she'd picked up from both their conversations and the remnants of Bad Wolf, she'd been unable to stitch together a clear picture on how it all fit together in this universe. Sometimes she'd been able to lock onto the Doctor's signature in her dimension jumps, and she'd ended up finding all sorts of different Doctors in the parallel worlds. She'd seen older Doctors and younger Doctors. Doctors who still had a Rose Tyler, Doctors who'd never met one. She'd seen worlds where the Doctor lived as a god and ones where he'd died as a villain. In fact, she began to prefer the jumps where she couldn't find him at all because they tended to hurt less. But the Dimension Cannon's DNA coding was useless in her own world and she'd found no evidence of the Doctor's presence here. She hadn't intended to track him down so that they could start where they left off. For all she knew, he could have some other companion travelling about with him. And besides, he wouldn't have been the same. He would have been even more a stranger than this copy in front of her now. She just…felt a little emptier inside living in a world where the Doctor didn't exist.

He pulled up files on Zygons and Daleks, every planet he'd ever made an inadvertent impression on, galactic fairy tales of people who could manipulate time. He scattered all the pieces out onto the map laid out within his head as pathways formed between each little clue until he could calculate the bigger picture. He'd done it thousands of times, sometimes thousands of times in one day. But this time, it felt foggy…heavy. This was new and it was growing. He deciphered as much as he could before the haze became a flame.

"What is it?" Rose must have interpreted his expression as discontent and he looked up at her shining hazel eyes to find a bit of solace.

"The TARDIS will fly here, but not like it did before. There was this black hole power source called the Eye of Harmony in Kasterborous—that's the system Gallifrey was in—and it sort of…fueled the planet. It was what allowed us to travel how we did. Anyway, all the TARDISes had a little piece of the Eye in them to give them power but ours won't because Kasterborous is sealed off. You remember how we would fuel up in Cardiff on the rift?" She nodded in response. "Well, that was because since Gallifrey was destroyed, we couldn't connect with the Eye any longer. So our new TARDIS will be a bit like that. I can bring it to life but it will only run on rift energy so we'll have to fuel it up about, uh…"

He pulled the chart back up and the flame flashed back to life. He did his calculations quickly so as not to let the conflagration within him spread to his facial features. He suddenly realized just how brave Donna had been.

"Uhm…fourty-seven point five hundred and sixty-three times more often." At her blank stare, he continued. "So in other words, we could pop over to Egypt's Middle Kingdom for a couple of days of holiday but then we'd have to drop her off at a rift source and leave her there for a couple more. Also the chameleon circuit will be in working order again, so our first trip will have to be off to 1963 so we can break it." He added the last bit with a snarky grin she was sure to recognize.

"So, there's no Time Lords here then?" It was the Doctor's turn to be speechless. He figured he ought to stop being surprised at the way she seemed to look right through him and peg his core so accurately. There had certainly been that unspoken hope within him. A wistful whisper lost in the torrent of logic he clung to. An impossible desire, but one that existed nonetheless. But no, it would be too kind of the universe to give him both Rose _and_ Gallifrey, to allow him to take her and picnic underneath those scarlet skies and watch the twin suns set from a tall tower in the Citadel. It would be too kind for the cosmos to alleviate any of the guilt of millions of voices crying out and being silenced all at once. He realized she had wished that for him. That Rose Tyler had been personally wounded by the tendrils of the world's cruelty, and yet she still stuck to the impractical thought that he deserved better. What he didn't deserve was her.

"No, the Time War is a fixed point in time in the multiverse. Little details might be different, battles with different names, ramifications on different planets, but in the end it's always the same. Gallifrey is gone everywhere and the worlds where I didn't stop it died."

"What, like the whole universe?"

"Yep. The War only ends in two ways. Either I destroy Gallifrey or the Time Lords destroy the universe. The cosmos has this greater scheme, bigger than all of us, even Time Lords. Beyond our power. Some people call it God, others fate. It's like…how no matter what world you go to, Earth always manages to come together and form itself out of that big cloud of gas and debris. Well, a planet's formation is mandated by the universe, and so is its destruction."

Rose's brows furrowed in compassion and her feet stopped swinging against the mahogany panels. "So you did exist here, then. If the Time Lords were stopped here, you must have stopped them. But…why couldn't I find you?"

He was unsure of how the question affected him. Had she been looking for a replacement Doctor, convinced he was looking for a replacement companion? Had she tried to search him out when the darkness fell, to ask for advice? He didn't bother to ask as the burning in his head had returned and he focused on keeping it at bay.

"I died." His hands ran down his face, as though trying to wipe away the unpleasantness of his statement. "Apparently in this universe, I thought it would be better if there were no Time Lords at all, including myself. Real life of the party, I must have been."

Rose slid off the side of the desk and took zealous steps over to his side like he had felt her do as she and _him_ had watched the TARDIS supposedly burn. He had only been a cloud of regeneration energy then. He had felt the other Doctor, he had felt the terror within him, he had felt the warmth of Rose Tyler's hand in his. But this was real now. She was standing so close to him, he could smell her citrusy shampoo and never had he wanted to taste an orange so badly. Another side effect of being human seemed to be having less control over his urges to devour her.

"But that's good news, yeah, about the TARDIS? I mean, we can't travel full time like we used to but at least we can go at all."

He wanted to reach out and caress the silky skin of her cheek like he'd done so many times before, but her coldness in the corridor before deterred him. Instead he smiled softly and tried his best not to sink into the honey in her eyes. "Yeah, it's good news."

Then it hit him all at once. It started in his head, where it felt like the multiverse was imploding upon itself within his brain. All the file cabinets he had built over the last few days all burst at once and a deluge of knowledge came gushing to the forefront of his mind. But it didn't feel like a flood; it felt like a wildfire burning him up inside and slowly claiming more and more of him. The flames spread down to his chest where he could feel his single heart attempting to play a duet as a solo.

She swore her heart had stopped the moment that howl had left his lips. His hands clutched the breast pocket of his shirt and she reached out and clung to his arm even as he tried to shake her away.

"Doctor! Doctor! What's happening?" Her tone was frantic. Despite her hesitancy towards this new man, she would fight for the chance to know him. Sod it all if she was going to lose him after everything it took to get them here.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just, ahhh, a moment." His hand dropped and he wriggled a bit to recollect himself. The grimace of pain had melted from his features. "There we go."

She let go of his arm reluctantly. She opened her mouth to inquire further but the relief on his face quickly twisted into anger and she took a small step back.

"It's this body. This _human_ body."

He said the word as though it were poison on his tongue. Despite the fact that the aforementioned species was his preferred mode of company, he'd never had any trouble expressing his opinion that they were undoubtedly inferior to Time Lords. When he'd first realized there was only one set of beats within his chest, he'd sneered in disgust. He'd had to make due with one heart before but this was different. It felt more like a disease now. His mind was his most prized possession. It was what made him, him. He was the Doctor and he was clever. And he was so much cleverer than everyone else because he could see and understand everything all at once. But using that ability was a chore now and one that might be killing him. But who was he without it? A man he could still recognize? A man Rose Tyler could still love?

"There's a reason Time Lords have two hearts." There were semantics and mechanics he could get into, facts of his biology he could recite, analogies he could fabricate. But it would be playing a symphony on a single burning violin so he said nothing and merely let the fury swell up within him. So be it: science he couldn't overfill his cup with right now, but anger could over runneth. And blimey, was he angry. He'd known since the moment he decided to destroy the Daleks and Davros with them, that his darker side was more prone to show its face in this body. That while he admired everything light and beautiful about his human companions, the humanity within him would be dark and twisty as his guilt and ire were given free reign. He knew _he _would be able to feel this one, and would shake his self-righteous head in disappointment, but that only irritated him further. He turned away from Rose and gave the chair an ardent kick in frustration.

"It's not fair! I'm clever! I'm supposed to be clever!" His hands found the desk and his knuckles turned white as his fingers attempted to grip the unyeilding wooden surface.

He looked up at Rose Tyler and didn't see the faintest trace of fear or concern in her face. In that moment, he realized he ought not refer to her as a girl ever again. This was not the visage of the nineteen year old he had met in the basement of Henrik's all those years ago. This wasn't even the same countenance as the youth he had watched vanish as unspoken words lingered on his salty lips in that first encounter on Bad Wolf Bay. This was the expression of someone so much older, so much wiser, and so much harder. So unfazed by his outburst—that seemed more like a tantrum now. This was looking into a mirror and seeing the seasoned eyes of a weary traveller. He could begin to imagine the things she had seen during some of those cannon jumps, the ones she probably never mentions to anyone, the ones she doesn't even make light of in bedtime stories for Tony, the ones where she'd return and they'd look at her face and ask her what she'd seen and no words would come. Not to mention the imprints of the Bad Wolf in her dreams that she had divulged to him once. With all these extra years under her belt now, who could guess what she had seen in what should have been her reprieve?

"Calm down. We'll figure it out." Her tone wasn't condescending, but confident. She had enough conviction for the both of them as she inched closer to him.

"I'm sorry. I ought to be grateful. The TARDIS will fly. The Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS again, as it should be. The rest is just details, right?" She smiled as he recalled her words from the previous night. "This is just part of humanity I'll have to get used to. Still, it could be worse. Don—" The name formed on his lips before he could stop it but that single syllable had been enough to perk Rose's ears.

"Donna? What about Donna? You mean 'cause she's more human?"

He couldn't hide the deeply seeded regret in his eyes and she caught on too quickly.

"Rose, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should've told you, but I didn't want—" Images from that moment at the opera when it had nearly slipped came to mind but she interrupted him, uninterested in his apologies.

"What is it? What's happened to Donna?" The urgency in her voice became more apparent.

"Donna was too human to have a Time Lord consciousness within her head. She couldn't handle it. I had to—_he_ had to wipe her mind and take her back home so that she wouldn't burn." He was encroaching on her, like one would a frightened animal, trying to close the space she'd placed between them. He could hear the condescension in his tone but was too afraid to remove it left it replace itself with desperation.

"So you're saying…he's alone now." Her tone was calm and calculated. A strand of her hair fell from behind her ear and he resisted the urge to reach out and tuck it back. "Donna's gone home and forgotten him. And he's all on his own. And you weren't gonna tell me?" The accusation nestled in the wrinkles between her deeply furrowed brows.

"I figured things were complicated enough here without you…" She continued to let the loose tendril dangle in front of her consterning face and it bothered him inexplicably. "Without you worrying about_ him_ too." He knew as soon as he had said it that he had lost whatever this exchange had been. Despite his pathological humanity, he had become accustomed to misunderstanding the careful nuances of communication and this was no different.

Finally, she scooped the golden strand away from her pursed lips and pushed it to the other side of her head. She licked those ruby red lines that had been the givers of life just hours before and now seemed to taunt and curse him with their waning proximity. "You can get your own cab home," she murmured before turning from him and he watched the tassels of her scarf bounce against her legs as she strode away.

The Doctor let out a sigh and realized he'd been holding his breath. That was another thing he'd have to remember to do more of now, especially as the overwhelming emptiness of the room seemed to suffocate him without her presence. He stepped back to lean on the desk behind him, the edge still warm from where her thighs had rested. His hands found their way to the tufts on his head in a habitual gesture but were reminded of the disappointing lack of texture they now held. They dropped back to the desk and he drummed his fingers and closed his eyes while looking up at the ceiling. "Yep."


End file.
